I had heard of King Fern
Valley in the Norfolk Island National Park.
It is where you can find the rare King Fern (Marattia salicina). I have wanted to go there for years, ever
since first hearing local icons, Owen and Beryl Evans and Jackie Ralph Quintal,
describe a King Fern’s grandeur. But like
Shangri-La or something from The Lord of the Rings, finding King Fern Valley has
proven elusive. Wherever I was, the
Valley always loomed just over the next ridge or horizon. So when Lyn Bryant recommended we go there one
day, I quickly suggested the next available weekend.
Lyn is one of those people who
wear multiple hats, but one at a time.
We knew each other well enough to say “hi” at the supermarket, but I
didn’t know of her long-time interest in Norfolk history and natural history;
of her collection of historical photographs or of her knowledge of the Island’s
hydrology. Wow. One day recently, as part of their annual
company party, I took the team at KC Industries and their partners on a tour of
Norfolk. By the way, it’s a particular
challenge for a tour guide to show locals their own island. It was fun and I learned a lot. And the next thing I knew, I’m making plans
to meet Lyn and Mark for a walk through King Fern Valley.
Okay, so we didn’t find King
Fern Valley. I said it was elusive. But it was genuinely interesting to try. Credit the Park Service with rehabilitating
the forest along the Mt. Bates Track to its present healthy condition. The re-growth is now sufficient to obscure
old paths and landmarks from just a few years ago. But in searching for a trail from the grassy forest
road, Mark noticed limestone rocks underfoot.
At first thought, this was an unusual find on top of a volcanic
peak. But we quickly surmised the rock
was probably calcarenite excavated from the Kingston area during World War
II. Mt. Bates was the site of a radar
installation erected in 1942. We knew
the road we were on was built at that time, but evidently it was originally
covered with limestone fill.
Lyn started to become a bit embarrassed
about not finding the trail, but she shouldn’t have. I called my good friend, Ed Hooker, for some
advice. Ed has hiked across the Island
countless times with the late Harry Buffett, including to King Fern
Valley. But Ed didn’t quite remember the
start of the trail, either. He thought
it began down from us, near the Hollow Pine.
So we got in our cars and made our way to what remains of a huge Norfolk
Island pine.
The Hollow Pine is a landmark
for its sheer size and the fact that adults could comfortably stand inside its
hollow trunk. Even in death with its top
portion missing, it is impressive and reminds us of how Norfolk must have been
before the axe and the cross-cut saw. I
hear there are a few of these virgin-growth trees still living, but their
locations are kept hidden out of concern that onlookers might adversely impact
them by compacting the surrounding soil.
For that reason, a viewing platform had been constructed uphill from the
Hollow Pine, but this great tree is now posing a threat to public safety and
the platform has been dismantled and the trail blocked-off. However, we were there on a mission and away
from the tree began to search for a tell-tale sign of a trail leading to what I
hoped was King Fern Valley.
Okay, so Ed was mistaken. We couldn’t find a trail. But it was another chance to appreciate the
work Parks is doing to rehabilitate the forest.
Because of the prevalence of grazing cattle before the National Park was
established, much of the Park was initially filled with noxious trees and other
introduced flora. These plants are
considered “colonising” species. They
are hearty and opportunistic, and hard work to cull and keep out, which is what
the Parks crew has progressively been doing.
Indeed, the historical record going back to Captain Cook’s visit in 1774
speaks of Norfolk being so densely forested that there was little ground
cover. That’s what we’re seeing now:
little ground cover. The native trees
need to bushy-up a little more, but it looks good and the ground is clear
enough to reveal a trail – if one existed.
It’s me, of course. Maybe I’m not supposed to know. But we’re going to try it again on another
day, and Ed will join. King Fern
Valley. Everyone seems to have been
there. They say it’s just over the
ridge.
-
Rick Kleiner
